In 2017, Karin Breuer invited me to work with her and the Achenbach Graphic Arts Council to examine and catalogue all of the Achenbach’s prints by Richard Diebenkorn. I had the privilege of working with Dick as his master printer at Crown Point Press in the late 1980s and early 1990s, and Karin knew I’d be familiar with his prints and printmaking methods.
When I arrived at the Achenbach located in the Legion of Honor museum, Karin greeted me at the library door by handing me a tome of paper: 610 prints were cataloged and listed in the archive. It was my job was to measure each print, determine the media and paper type, and make observations about each print.
Every morning, I would retrieve a box of prints from the archive vault, using my fancy badge to wave myself through the armed doors. The vault consisted of floor-to-ceiling print drawers, packed to the brim with printed treasures spanning centuries and shelves of archival boxes also filled with prints. I would find a Diebenkorn box and carefully transfer it to a rolling cart. Then I’d wheel it out to the brightly lit library room in the Legion of Honor to work. Examining the prints was a joy, but measuring is a tedious task. It took a great deal of concentration to get the measurements right.
Most of the prints were early dry points printed by Dick himself. But there were also the complex color prints he did at Crown Point Press, working with the Master Printers that trained me: Marcia Bartholme, Hidekatsu Takada, and Nancy Anello.
When I came across Tulips (1989), the first print I made with Diebenkorn, it was like encountering an old friend—one whom I had not seen in a long time. The delicate but commanding lines evoked the powerful memory of Dick himself, as well as the circumstances of making of the print.
Tulips, was made in the Folsom Street Studio of Crown Point Press. It was the first time I was in charge of a print project with Dick, and it was an immeasurable honor. That year, Dick had been struggling with his health. When Dick was admitted to the hospital for a prolonged stay, he called upon Kathan Brown (founder of Crown Point Press), to bring him a few prepared copper plates so he could work while he was there. Kathan asked me to apply soft ground to a few plates. She took the plates to him, and a few days later, they returned with his delicate pencil drawings completed on the vellum that lay over the prepared plates.
Tulips was the first of four plates he did while at the hospital. The lines were so gently drawn that I was worried his pencil had not even touched the soft wax below. I etched the plate carefully, checking it every few minutes, standing over the submerged plate, watching like an anxious new mother who hovers over her sleeping child. I was hoping that more than just foul bite would be etched into the polished copper beneath. I was conscious of the weight and importance this small plate offered for Dick, coupling his drive to create with his motivation to stay engaged—his way to think about his work rather than the reality of his surroundings.
When printed, the lines were delicate and broken. The tulip’s stalks were bent, leaning in every direction, precariously resisting gravity and holding onto their vertical integrity. In retrospect, it struck me that these tulips were not unlike Diebenkorn himself. When he saw the print, he was pleased. It was finished. This was the first Diebenkorn print that I would emboss with my printer chop.
In 1989, I worked with Dick in the temporary studio space on Folsom Street, after the Loma Prieta earthquake shook Crown Point from its beautiful Folsom Street studio. We completed several of the plates that he started in the hospital and worked on and completed six small plates for Arion Press’s book Poems of W. B. Yeats.
It was just the two of us, working together in the dark and slightly dank space. Dick was never unnerved by these surroundings. I had run many highly complex color print projects with many artists by then. I knew my stuff as a master printer, and I felt confident working with Dick. The prints we made in the temporary space were small and black and white.
From 1990 to 1992, we worked together in the newly constructed Crown Point Press studio. We completed the large color prints: Touched Red and the High Green variations. Dick was losing his strength and walked with a cane. But his mind was clear and his hand was confident.
I have almost completed my work on the catalogue raisonné. Rediscovering Tulips was just the beginning. Looking back at working with Dick, I remember snippets of conversation, laughing about his dogs, or discussing the latest books we were reading. I remember his distinctive methods for creating his work or simply the way he held his brush. I loved the way he looked at his work in progress and considered the options. It was a discovery and a journey to make a print with Diebenkorn, and I learned so much about art and life working with him.
In all my time, I have never worked with such a great yet humble man. He was focused and engaged, generous and kind. Dick was a real gift, not only for me, but for us all.
Video of Renee Bott speaking with Phillips Auction House about the making of Richard Diebenkorn’s: High Green.